


Story: Triss

by EddyBoy, hdctbpal



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Impregnation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EddyBoy/pseuds/EddyBoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdctbpal/pseuds/hdctbpal
Summary: Third of Hdctbpal´s stories based on Sabu´s bad ending pics.





	Story: Triss

The King of Beggars thought of himself as an idealist. He despised ignorant prejudice in all its forms. He detested the thugs employed by the Cult - he refused to call it a church - of the Eternal Fire. He had nothing but contempt for their leader, Caleb Menge, who was nothing but a common murderer whom fate had rewarded far beyond his desserts. And he loathed the public spectacles in which witches - regardless of age or sex - were roasted alive by Menge's executioners to amuse gaggles of cheering fools.

But the King also had to be a pragmatist. Idealism was worse than useless without strength, and in this gods-forsaken city, strength meant coin. Coin hired muscle and purchased weapons, with which the King would one day wrest control of this city from its theocrat tyrants. Until then, coin bought their indulgence. Not Menge's - he was too fanatical, too paranoid, too stupid to be bribed - but that of his officers and men and spies. In Novigrad, rabid piety lived side by side with breathtaking corruption. Even the lowest preist-bureaucrat was on the take, often to more than one faction at once.

For the right price, Menge's men would turn a blind eye to the King's operations, tell him what he wanted to know about theirs, and tell their superiors whatever he wanted them to hear. These bribes were paid in coin, favors...and other desired commodities.

The King's relationship with the sorceress Triss Merigold had been a profitable one from the start. She was skilled, but young and naive. The bargain he offered her - eighty percent of her earnings, in exchange for sanctuary - was the typical opening bid in Novigrad, namely robbery pushed to the edge of insult. He expected her to haggle him down to fifty percent, the usual amount paid for his protection. It had been so long since anyone had agreed to eighty percent that when she did, it was only the King's many years of practice at such flimflammery that let him hide his surprise.

He was well pleased. She was a good earner, though she had a sharp tongue. But nothing stayed secret in Novigrad for long. Eventually, whispers reached the Temple Guards about the King's guest in the Putrid Grove - especially when she was rash enough to advertise her skills when looking for work. Menge himself didn't know yet, or else the King would have been dragged from his underground hideout to Menge's infamous torture chambers. But one of Menge's high Inquisitors was making pointed inquiries through the network of go-betweens the King had cultivated within the ranks of the Guards. It seemed the Inquisitor had crossed path with the young sorceress before and was most anxious to make her acquaintance once again.

Though the Inquisitor did not put it in so many words, the King could plainly see he had a choice - betray Merigold for a fantastic price, one that would fund his operations for years, or lose everything and quite likely die in agony. He feared death or agony less than failure. He reasoned to himself that he could hardly free this poor city if he were dead; without him, his movement would disintegrate overnight.

Still, before agreeing, the King managed to extract certain conditions from the Inquisitor. Menge was not to be informed. There was to be no execution, public or otherwise, and no torture. None that would leave marks, at any rate. The Inquisitor was only too happy to agree to these conditions, which left the King with his suspicions as to what the other man had in mind. His promises were probably worthless anyway, but the King salved his conscience by telling himself he had done what he could.

The Inquisitor provided the King with a pair of manacles forged from pure dimeritium, itself worth a small fortune. It was a simple matter to fasten them on the girl's wrists as she slept...

*

The Inquisitor smiled contentedly as he watched the bound Triss Merigold struggle furiously against her bonds and spit curses at him that were muffled by the gag drawn tightly through her mouth. After all this time, she still wasn't broken. The Inquisitor had known, from their first meeting, that she would be quite the little spitfire, but she had exceeded his most pleasurable anticipations.

Slowly, taking his time, he loosened his belt and let his breeches fall to his ankles. His large member sprang free, already achingly stiff and sticky with pre-cum. Triss squealed into her gag. He didn't worry about that; he'd had her room carefully insulated to prevent any sounds escaping.

The Inquisitor shared the King of Beggars' contempt for the hysteria surrounding witches, though for different reasons. Other witch hunters dealt with the accused by ripping their fingernails and teeth and tongues out, or breaking them on the wheel, or some other barbarity. To the Inquisitor, they were blind fools. He, on the other hand, used his position to its proper advantage.

Of course, he had had to kill a few suspected sorcerers who couldn't or wouldn't pay - you had to set the right example for the others and for his superiors, after all. But for the most part, his trade was a lucrative one. A formal accusation of witchery was a death sentence. People would pay anything to escape it. The Inquisitor would choose his target with care, have his minions begin whispering the usual rumors in the proper ears, and let fear do the rest. His subsequent investigation would be little more than an elaborate charade, after which he would send the victim - terrified, penniless, but exonerated - away with a few stern admonitions.

Not that he was overly greedy, or ostentatious. A few other Inquisitors had hit upon the same idea, but their ill-gotten wealth had turned their heads. They stole as if they were starving and lived like princes, until Menge could hardly help but get wind of it. Then he made examples of them that made the penalties for witchery look mild. The Inquisitor shuddered, thinking of that. He was no stranger to brutality, but...

So the Inquisitor was smarter than that. He lived in a small, somewhat run-down keep, with only a couple of loyal - and quiet - servants. He lived just well enough so as to attract neither envy nor contempt. Most of his acquired wealth had been carefully buried. Someday, if his friend the King succeeded in his design to liberate Novigrad, that wealth could come out of hiding to be enjoyed properly. He smiled at that. He had recently donated handsomely to the King's cause.

Now he had the crown jewel of his collection, and he didn't have to wait to enjoy her properly. A sheet of parchment, framed on the wall behind her, spoke of how many times he had done so already. There were a hundred and three marks on the parchment so far. Triss had been here for nearly three months now. The Inquisitor would have liked to visit her more than once a day, but he still had his duties.

One of the things he liked about her was her large and easily exposed clit. He stroked it slowly and gently with his thumb, drawing it out from under its protective hood. She could no longer control her own responses to his attentions; her body was simply too used to them. He traced his fingertips along the edges of her vaginal lips; she was wet, as he knew she would be. 

Triss had stopped protesting, but her green eyes were fastened on his, her forehead creased and her pretty red eyebrows drawn inward by her anger, even as a dark flush of humiliation slowly climbed her neck into her face.

His left hand closed around her long slim neck. She growled, deep in her throat, but did not otherwise react. It was just one more thing she had unwillingly become used to. The first time he had done that, those green eyes had gone wide with fear. But he never choked her; he just liked to hold on to her that way. Somehow it emphasized for him how small and vulnerable she was. Not fragile, not delicate - she was far too spirited to be called either of those things, as he had learned over the last few months - but completely in his power.

His cock, thick as it was, met almost no resistance as he slowly sheathed it inside her to the hilt. He let out a deep groan of appreciation; the sound was mirrored by her long low moan of simmering helpless frustrated rage, edged with despair.

At last their bodies were fully joined. He spent several moments savoring the feel of her vaginal muscles constricting on his cock, then began slowly thrusting in and out of her. Her gaze still held his, full of silent accusation now, even as her body unconsciously began to move to his rhythm, meeting him a little more firmly with each thrust. Soon the small room echoed with the wet slapping sound of their bodies meeting more and more urgently.

A series of small sounds issued from behind Triss' gag; as the fucking went on, they progressed from quiet angry grunts to whimpers to sharp little cries and at last they merged together into a muffled wail of pleasure that was so plainly unwilling that he could almost feel it being dragged out of her. The two of them came together, as they had been doing for some weeks now.

She hated that. 

He let out a long contented sigh as he felt himself begin to soften inside her, but he didn't pull out. He let go of her neck and brushed a strand of her red hair away from her flushed, sweaty face. His hand wandered lower, caressing her naked body, which glistened now with a fine sheen of sweat. She tried to jerk away from his touch, but she was so well restrained she could hardly move.

He leaned forward and kissed one of her thick puffy nipples, which stood up proudly from the broad dark pink areola that crowned her firm round breast. "Soon," he murmured to her. She had no trouble following his meaning. Soon that nipple would be feeding the child she would bear him, the one she could already feel growing inside her.

The green eyes closed, and a lone tear brimmed over and trickled down her face.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the picture here http://thesabu.com/comic/triss-bad-ending-interrogation-session/


End file.
